Back to the Basement
by Ozfan
Summary: After last night's Lessons season opener, I was dying for more Spike/Buffy interaction, and next thing you know I wrote this. What a stupid title.
1. Back to the Basement

"Come here," she whispers, and at first he doesn't look up, because it sounds like Glory, and he doesn't want her particular not-so-pleasant finger-in-torso torture.

"Spike!" More insistent, bratty. Slayery. He looks up. There she stands, evil incarnate, the biggest bad of all, his love, his girl, his downfall.

Dru laughs in the corner, then comes over and slices his face open with her fingernails. He takes it, leans against the wall and feels the welts burn.

Then there is a soft hand touching his shoulder. He finds he is crouching in the corner, which smells of death and urine. He wonders vaguely if he has wet himself, and he grins, embarrassed. 

"Look at me," the voice says, softer now. Tricking him with tenderness, the way she always does. He looks anyway, wondering what new and creative pain she's come up with. 

"You've scratched yourself bad," she says, pressing a wet washcloth to his cheek. It stings slightly. _Good. He covers his hand with hers and presses the cloth harder against his cheek. It stings more._

"You look different," he says. "More real."

"I am real, dammit!" she insists.

"I am real, dammit! I am real, dammit!" Glory and Warren chant together, mocking her. 

"Rape her for real this time," Warren adds. "I'd love to see that. And you'd love to do that, wouldn't you." And then the memory of that day, replayed again.

"Shut UP!" Spike screams. This realer Buffy thinks he has yelled at her, but she only flinches slightly.

"We are going to get you out of here," she says firmly.

"No no no no no," Spike whispers. "This is my home now." He recites it like a good boy. This is where he belongs. Haunted and alone and nothing they have devised yet to do to him will ever be enough, but it is a start. Dru starts to sing, and it comes out through him. Buffy frowns and interrupts him.

"You were right about the Talisman, Spike. Thank you. Dawn is safe now."

Dru stops singing. She is very angry. Spike meets Buffy's eyes, really meets them, and he frowns at her. "Bit?" he says slowly. "She was in danger?"

Buffy nods. Then nods vigorously. "Big, big danger. Huge. In fact, she's still in big, huge, danger. Come help me. Please."

Spike nods in rhythm to her. "I can help you. I will help you if you need me to. I want to help. I want to help." He grabs her hand and clings to it like a child.

The Mayor laughs. "That is so precious. Look at you. You actually think you can leave." The Master pushes Spike aside and then his hands are suddenly around Buffy's neck.

"Not going anywhere," he says, smiling while he chokes her.

"Spike! Stop!" she gasps, struggling. Her hands claw at the hands around her neck, hands as strong, if not stronger, than her own. Spike watches, as if from a distance, watches the Master choke her, choke her, and then he recognizes the hands around her neck as his own. Something snaps. He screams and fights and fights, and they will make him pay but he fights so, so hard. The hands come off her neck and he flings the Master into the corner. 

"Don't hurt her," he pleads. But they are gone for now. For once. Buffy stares at him, wide-eyed, gasping for breath. An  understanding flashes between their locked gaze.

"Now. We gotta go now, love."

Buffy nods. He nods in return. 

_Ready Randy?__ Ready Joan._

What does that mean? he wonders. Did he just make that up, or did that happen, long ago? No matter. She has grabbed his arm and they are out of the room, the door slamming shut behind them. Spike knows he isn't free. He knows the real pain is just beginning. But here he is, and here she is, helping him, and for now that is more than enough.


	2. Another Visit

"Do you feel better now?"

Spike nods, tries to sit up in the dark comfort of this unknown room. Her hand pushes him gently back down.

"Don't sit up. Don't expend any energy. You're a mess."

"Thanks," he croaks out. It is so quiet. Not just here, in this room, but in his mind. They have stopped for a bit, and he forgot how blissful silence could be. He listens to her breathe, his eyes closed, heavy with sleep.

"When will they come back?" he asked after a while. He hears a soft sigh.

"I don't know. Not for a while. Now that you're not right on the center of the Hellmouth they can't seem to reach you. Here, drink this." It is warm blood, and it fills him, rekindles something in him, makes him feel stronger. She takes it away when he is finished. It is so dark, and he cannot see.

"Why did you help me?" he says, his voice cracking. He feels a hand touch his, kindly.

"Because you never hurt me."

And then she leaves him alone.

"Tara? Come back. I'm afraid to be alone."

There is no answer except for what sounds like wind in trees.

"Tara?" he says again, softer, trying to open his eyes. A door opens and then he can see, and he sees the outline of a form, but he knows that figure. It is not Tara.

"Buffy? Where did Tara go?" He still sounds so childlike.

From the doorway, Buffy studied him. She could feel her hairs standing up on the back of her neck, and it was so strange, but she felt it too, felt as if Tara had been here, just as she had felt (_knew) that someone else was there in the basement of the high school with them._

"Tara's gone, Spike."

"She gave me a treat. She told me to stay here."

"Yes, she was right. Just stay here."

"I can't. If I stay, bad things will happen. They have plans."

"Spike, no offense, but you're not in the position to hurt a flea right now. You need to regain your strength and stop with the Dru imitation pronto. It's freaking me out."

"I'm not mad. I'm not mad," he said quietly, as if trying to convince himself.

"No, you're not. You're in there somewhere, underneath all that hair." Buffy sat at the edge of the couch and studied him. His eyes were closed again. She had bandaged him up as best she could, and no, she had no idea what she was doing or why she was helping him. She only knew that she had seen plenty of pain and torment in her day, had felt it, had caused it, but nothing she had come across, not even her own bout with madness, compared to what she saw when she looked in his eyes after he stopped choking her. Eyes were the window of the soul after all, and he had that in spades.

"What am I going to do with you?" she murmured.

"Kill me once and for all. It's the perfect plan. Foil them." He didn't even open his eyes when he responded.

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. He sounded so matter-of-fact about it.

"Sorry, never been a stick-to-the-plan-type Slayer," she quipped, her voice perhaps a little too bright.

Spike opened one eye. Then another. Just looked at her. His mouth opened to form words, but when no sound came, he just closed his eyes and pressed his face into the cushion, his body shaking with silent grief. Stunned, sad, confused, Buffy let him be and went upstairs.  


	3. Dinner For Two

_You are good. You are very good. We didn't see that one coming. Didn't think you'd actually come back for him, after everything. Jesus, you're pathetic. You're like one of those people who gets bit by a dog and then pets it when it looks up at you with big puppy dog eyes. You couldn't even kill me __on time. If you had done it right away, before I got to Jenny, think of all the pain you would have prevented. When will you ever learn? When? Huh, little girl? _

Angelus winked at her, and that is when she woke up.

* * * *

Buffy lay there for a minute on her living room couch as she fought back the image of Angel's demon face hovering way too close to hers.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath. 

"What?" Dawn peeked in from the kitchen. Buffy could detect smells of actual food being cooked.

"Not you. Sorry. What time is it?" Buffy sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Time for your official thank-you dinner," Dawn said, grinning. "You must be beat from saving more lives today. I made chicken parmesan."

"Dawn, no. I should be cooking for you. Your official 'I Survived My First Day of Hellmouth High' dinner." Buffy stood up and stretched, smiling at her younger sister.

Dawn shrugged. "You can help me with my homework, how's that?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't know how much good I'd be in that department."  
"Oh, please. I know what you got on your SATs. Don't pull the dumb blonde chick routine on me now. I'm gonna go downstairs and get the nice plates. This is going to be one fancy dinner." Dawn started walking toward the basement door, and suddenly Buffy remembered.

"NO!" Slayer speed came in handy as Buffy intercepted her sister at the top of the basement steps. 

"What, you have a sudden aversion to good china?" Dawn asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Um, no." Buffy laughed, one of those light _ha-ha-ha laughs that sounded so fake she didn't know why she bothered doing them. "It's just that I've been rearranging stuff down there and I don't want you to mess my new system up. It's not done yet. My big fall project is cleaning up the basement. I'll go get the china. You go, um, tend to your chicken." Buffy grinned too widely and walked down the steps too quickly._

She turned on a small lamp when she reached the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to shock Spike with the overhead fluorescent lights. But she sensed, even before she saw the empty sofa, that he was gone. He was not in this room; he was not in this house. He had left while she slept. She closed her eyes and sighed, wondering if Angelus had gotten to him too.

"Crap," she said to the empty room.

When she came back upstairs, Dawn was putting food on the table.

"Um, Buffy? The good plates? Hello?"

Buffy looked down at her empty hands, then up at her sister. Enough with the lies and the hiding, she realized.

"We need to talk," she said simply.

* * * *

Dawn wasn't really hungry by the time Buffy finished filling her in, but she wasn't storming out or yelling at her either. A good sign. 

"If you could have seen him, Dawn. I… I can't explain it."

"It's probably better that I didn't see him," Dawn said. "I don't know what I would have done."

"Believe me, I didn't either. It was so unexpected. And now he's off to destroy himself, or go back to the high school and be all Ophelia-ey."

"What are you going to do?"

Good question, Buffy thought with a sad smile. She looked at the clock. "Well, it's too late to call Giles. I suppose I could go back to the high school during patrol tonight. Ugh." She put her head on the table.

"You're sure, Buffy? That he has a soul?"

Buffy nodded firmly. "Yes. That's the only thing I'm sure of as far as Spike is concerned."

"So he probably isn't going to hurt anyone. For all we know the chip still works, right?"

Buffy lifted her head. "Right. I'm not really worried about him hurting anyone else though." She pictured the deep scars over his heart, felt them under her touch. She shook the image away. Concentrate, Buffy. Do what's got to be done. "We need to find out about the talisman, and we need to find out what Spike meant by their plans. Who is 'they'? Who was he talking to?"

They sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Dawn seemed to decide something. 

"How about we just go to Hawaii instead?"

Buffy sighed. "Not a bad idea, Dawn. Sacred duties can really suck."

* * * *

Buffy wasn't sure whether Anya would agree to spending time with Dawn this evening. They had seen little of her over the past few months. The strangest part was that Buffy actually missed her. However, when she called the Magic Shop, newly reopened, to ask whether she and Dawn could hang for a bit tonight while Buffy patrolled, Anya seemed happy.

"Remember, nothing too obvious. We don't want Anya thinking we suspect her. There are lots of vengeance demons. Right?"

"Right," Dawn agreed optimistically. When they reached the small coffee shop near the center of town, Buffy pulled out some money to give to Dawn, but she waved it away.

"I've got my baby-sitting funds burning a hole in my pocket, but thanks anyway." Dawn hugged Buffy. "Be careful. If you do see Spike, tell him I still hate him. No, tell him I said hi, and then said I still hate him. No…"

"Go, my little spy. Godspeed." Buffy pushed her gently toward the door, then tightened her light jacket around her, feeling for the two stakes in the inside pockets. All there. She patted them companionably and began her patrol.


	4. Another Kind of Intervention

**Another Kind of Intervention**

Part 4 of 4

Apologies for my hopeless schmaltzy optimism and Spike lurve.

He's had to dance with ghosts before, but not so many in a row, all the people he'd killed lining up for him. They keep asking him to dance. They put their hands on his shoulders and remind him of his sins. They whisper with their rotting lips close to his cheek all that he had destroyed. He tries to hum to keep their voices out of his head. The humming surrounds him as he gets closer to the school, his home. The stars above his head seem to dance.

There was an odd comfort in being down there in the basement with them, because the pain was so bad he didn't get to think of his victims. And down there, when Buffy appeared, she was so cruel, and he almost welcomed it. But while he slept in her basement, when his mind had cleared a bit and he could finally see again, it was the real Buffy he remembered, so frail in that bathrobe, eyes so wide with fear. In this dream she doesn't ask him to dance. Instead she asks him why. _Why did you do that to me, Spike? You said you'd never hurt me. Why did you hurt me, Spike? Why?_

He cannot answer that question, so instead he hums, louder, his footsteps quickening as they call him home.

* * *

"That's quite a first day, Dawn," Anya said as they caught up over coffee. "I wish I could help but I can't."

"What? No, I just wanted…"

"It's okay." Anya's smile was sad. "I understand. But it wasn't me. A talisman isn't really used by vengeance demons. The wishes I grant can't be undone by something as simple as breaking a talisman. I haven't heard of anyone other demons using them recently. No one tells me anything anymore. I'm not the most popular demon in these parts apparently."

"I really didn't suspect you."

"Why not? It's what I do, right? Wreak vengeance. That's… that's what I'm supposed to be doing." Anya sounded confused. Dawn studied her pale face, her sad, faraway eyes.

"Are you okay, Anya? When I come by the Magic Shop to see you, you're too busy, and you never come by the house."

"Why would I?" Anya asked, genuinely confused. Dawn looked down at her hands, at a loss.

"I have to go." Anya stood up suddenly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She wrapped her sweater tightly around herself and looked down at Dawn for a moment. "It was… good to talk to you again, Dawn."

"Don't go. Please. I just like being with you again. We don't have to talk about any sad stuff…"

Anya stopped her. "Be careful, Dawn. Word on the street is, it's not a good time to be a good guy these days." She went to walk away but Dawn's voice stopped her.

"In that case, you should be careful too."

Anya looked back at her. Their eyes met and held. Anya's eyes looked so, so tired. Then she turned quickly away and walked out the door.

* * *

Patrol was busy, picking up from the inevitable summer lull. Plus it was easier without Dawn at her side. Not that she minded teaching her sister self-defense against the undead, but she was more effective alone. 

After hitting two cemeteries, her feet seemed to eventually take her to that familiar crypt door, the one she had avoided all summer. Well, she _did dust two vampires on her way here, so it wasn't just a social call. Besides, her instincts told her to find him, to help him, despite logic, history, memory._

Or perhaps _because of logic, history, memory, the ones that crept up on her at the oddest times. The smell of a cigarette and she would remember him out on the back porch, letting her just be while she became accustomed to life again last fall. Or she'd be wrapping Dawn's hand up when she cut it one night on patrol and she suddenly remembered his hands holding her bloodied ones the night she crawled out of her grave._

_How long was I gone?_

_147 days yesterday, 148 today. But today doesn't count, does it?_

Of course there were other memories, the ones that made her ache with confusion and anger. And off they went, round and round in her head, until one day, she realized she had forgiven. Forgiven herself for using Spike, forgiven herself for surviving while Tara had to die. And she had forgiven Spike even before she looked into his eyes and saw his soul. 

Buffy knocked politely on the crypt door. The times for crashing into it as if she owned the place were long past.

"Well, hey there!" Clem answered the door, his voice bright and welcoming. Buffy smiled despite herself. He offered her the bag of potato chips he was holding but she shook her head.

"Is he here?" Buffy asked softly.

Clem's smile faded. "No. Not now. He was. And he's pretty coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs, if you know what I'm saying. You want to come in and wait?"

"No, I… I'm not done patrolling." Buffy turned to go, then turned back. "Did he say anything to you? Where he's been?"

"No. He just came in, acted all fidgety, asked how I was. He was humming a lot. It was kind of freaking me out."

Buffy nodded. "Clem, believe me, I know what you mean. And what did I tell you about eating so much junk food?"

* * *

She found him sitting on the sidewalk across the street from the high school. He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself and he was humming. He didn't look over when she sat down next to him. He just continued humming softly

"That's a pretty song," she said finally.

"Thank you. Are you here to dance with me?" he said.

"No. I'm here to make sure you don't go back in there."

"Oh." He looked at her then. She saw his eyes focus as he stared at her, as if recognizing her for the first time. He swallowed hard. "Hello, Buffy."

"Hello, Spike."

He kept looking at her, confused, and then his mouth turned up slightly, ever so slightly, into what looked like a promising beginning of his trademark smirk.

"Changed your mind yet about killing me?" he asked softly.

Buffy looked up at the stars. "Nah, not yet. I'm working on it. You coming back here isn't helping your case any."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"You didn't say goodbye when you left the house today," Buffy said lightly.

Spike shuffled his foot on the pavement. "Yeah, well, you would've stopped me, and we can't have that, now, can we?"

"Yes, actually, we can. I want you to talk to me."

Spike shook his head. "Can't, love. Don't make sense anymore, my mind's all jumbled. Sometimes it's better than others. But then… Nothing I said would make any sense. Nothing I said would…" He looked at her, his eyes sad. "Nothing I said would make any difference."

"Try me."

There it was, there was that tiny bit of a smile again. "Even from a crazy man, it would sound crazy."

"What, about you getting your soul back? What's so crazy about that? It's not like it's never happened in the history of the world, you know."

His shocked expression was priceless, really it was. She wished she had a camera.

"I don't have a soul, you silly bint!"

_There you are. Keep coming. I know you're in there._

"Spike, maybe when you get all your strength back you'll be able to lie better, but as of now? You totally suck."

"I have to go now." Spike stood up. "I have things to do. I can't fight it. Too hard."

She grabbed his wrist to stop him. He's so thin, she thought dimly. "Whatever is in that basement is making you this way. Why do you want to go back in there? Too hard for you to deal out in the real world?" 

"Because I could hurt you again!" he shouted. "A soul is nothing. Means nothing. Warren said it and he's right. He's right. He said I'd do worse with a soul than without."

"When did he say that?" Buffy asked softly.

"I don't know. I don't know. It's been a long time. It feels like a long time." 

Buffy held on to him. "You said you wanted to help me. You said that, today Spike, in the basement. And now you're just going to give up?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Spike clapped his hands, smiled cruelly. "Very good, little one!" His smile slowly died. "Now let me go before I hurt you again."

"You won't," Buffy said firmly.

"How do you know? How? The last time I saw you… no, no, have to go, don't have time."

She put her hand to his cheek, and he stopped cold. 

"It's okay," she said slowly. "It's over. That's all over now. We're done hurting each other."

She saw the wars being waged, the emotions in his eyes threatening to overwhelm him. Meanwhile, she felt preternaturally calm. She realized she could stand here all night if she had to.

"You can't just forgive me," he whispered finally, disbelievingly. Her hand was still on his cheek.

Giles words from long ago whispered to her, as did so much of his wisdom when she most needed it… _To forgive is an act of compassion, Buffy. It's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it._

Buffy smiled at Spike, almost tenderly. "And you can't tell me what to do."

* * *

The sun would be up soon, but still they talked. Some things were harder for him to say than others. He became more lucid as the night drew to a close and morning approached. It was so strange, talking to him after all this time, strange in that it wasn't strange at all. 

"And the others?" he asked finally. "All the others I hurt? Will they forgive me?"

She knew he meant both the living and the dead. As they stood in front of his crypt and she looked into his eyes, his tired, haunted, familiar eyes, she tried to think of something wise to say, something beautiful and comforting, something Giles would say. But instead she could only say, "I don't know."

Spike sighed. "This is hell."

"You sound like me, last year." She put her hand on his arm. "Believe me, it gets better."

"I don't think it's supposed to, for me." 

"I don't think that's up to either of us."

Spike finally nodded, an almost imperceptible move of his head. He took a deep breath and looked around the familiar cemetery. The air was still and calm.

"So… I'll see you then."

Buffy nodded. "Remember, keep the brooding to a minimum. Get lots of rest. I need you at full strength if what you said is true. If something that powerful really is brewing, I'll need another good guy around here."

"Good guy," Spike sighed. "That's me, alright."

Buffy raised her eyes. "Oh, and keep the irony down to a minimum too. My head can handle only so much in one day."

"Agreed."

"Now go in before the sun comes up."

She could tell he did not want to go. He had said earlier he was afraid the spirits would be back, and she reasoned that maybe it would be Tara again. Sweet Tara.

Spike opened the door, then turned to look at her one last time. 

"Thank you," he said softly.

"I _told you to stop saying that."_

"Right. Sorry." Then he grinned, a real grin this time.

The door closed softly, and Buffy headed for home.

The End


End file.
